Anuj Kumar

Glory fits right into that popular OTT template where a murder or whodunit serves as the entry point, but the real focus is peeling back layers of a specific society, its pressures, dysfunctions, and cultural realities. As Kohrra subsides from the mindscape, Karan Anshuman takes us to the neighbouring Haryana and pegs a story on the boxing culture rooted in patriarchy that underlines the prosperous State. Karan, known for exposing cricket’s underbelly in Inside Edge and power struggles in Mirzapur, blends sports drama and crime thriller in a rustic flavour to tell a compelling tale with uneven outcomes.

Bollywood’s arranged-marriage factory fires up again with a rom-com that feels cliched and worn out. The spiritual sequel to the 2020 original, once again trots out the familiar template: a gruff, Rishikesh-based wrestler (Avinash Tiwary) and an effervescent Delhi girl (Medha Shankr) thrown into an arranged match built on mutual lies and family fabrications.

Built between fear and farce, Bhooth Bangla seeks to rekindle the magic that Priyadarshan and Akshay Kumar created in Bhool Bhulaiyaa before Anees Bazmee and Kartik Aaryan took the franchise forward with two spiritual successors. As the OGs of situational comedy lay claim to humor in the haunted mansion, we discover that originality has long been lost in its cobwebs. The result is a forced trip down nostalgia lane, packaged as a summer holiday entertainer, where a few wisecracks, a couple of jump scares manage to seep through the ceiling, but even they feel like leaks from outdated plumbing after a point.

Can a house of cards be built on honesty and integrity? Can it hold the weight of ambition? Director Nagraj Manjule turns the irony into an eight-episode series that gives increasing returns. Inspired by the life of Ratan Khatri, the controversial figure who democratised the way Bombay gambled in the 1960s and 1970s by transforming a simple household earthen pot — used in homes for storing water — into a symbol of a massive underground gambling empire, the character-driven series captures how he positioned Matka not just as clever branding but a strategic innovation that made the game of numbers accessible, transparent, and scalable.

Quietly subversive and more interested in human frailty than genre payoffs, Everybody Loves Sohrab Handa is a quintessential Rajat Kapoor film. It doesn’t reinvent the whodunit, but it humanises it, turning a murder mystery into a mirror held up to the insidious violence we inflict on the people we claim to love. The final reveal and tonal balance don’t fully satisfy, but it is a respectable experiment that fiercely tugs at the deepest strings of the heart. To celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary, Raman (Neil Bhoopalam) and Jayanti (Palomi Ghosh) invite a close group of friends and family for an intimate getaway at a sprawling century-old mansion in the hills. Among the guests is Raman’s business partner, Sohrab Handa (Vinay Pathak), a sharp-tongued, unapologetically abrasive presence who dominates every conversation with his acid wit and honesty. Sohrab is perceptive, knowing which insecurities to poke and how to cloak them in humour.

Delhi’s Patparganj District Court is back in session, and this time the madness has escalated into full-blown judicial chaos. If the first season of Maamla Legal Hai proved that Indian district courtrooms can be funnier than a stand-up special, the second season takes the gavel and runs with it, balancing sharp social commentary with genuine rib-tickling comedy with a layer of introspection in between.

Early in this maximalist’s dream of sensory overload, when the background voice of a girl menacingly provokes: ‘you are not ready for this’, one wants to tell her actually, one is over-prepared. As it turns out, the sequel attempts to outdo the original in volume and venom, perhaps at the expense of the original’s narrative weight. One went for a story, returned with a migraine and a beard. Dhar is the master of frame and fireworks, but he loses sight of the clock and control. Perhaps, deliberately. Channelling the mood of the moment, when the world is itching for war, he feeds the bloodlust of a section of the masses, ensuring a box-office bonanza but setting a dangerous precedent.

A rare filmmaker who understands the pulse of heartland politics, Prakash Jha returns this week to his Raajneeti universe along the Ganga with a flawed yet engaging take on benevolence. The series Sankalp stands out for its intellectual ambitions and strong performances. It succeeds as a reflective political drama rooted in moral ambiguity, but its bloated narrative structure and lack of visual innovation prevent it from becoming addictive. In an era of flashy spectacles, Jha sticks to a traditional, issue-driven style, prioritising realism and complexity, though some methods of portraying power corridors and the dynamics between kingmakers and rebellious disciples now feel clichéd in the series format.